Gifts of Winter

Doesn’t the darkness make the lights all the more bright and the cold the fire all the more inviting?

The long flight home with strangers bundled up, the more intimate that hug at the door?

The message, “I’m on my way”, then the wait make that kiss all the more passionate?

The wrapping and the shuffling and the parking and the lines make that wrapping under that tree all the more glowing?

Those lone white stars against the black ribbon of night all the more serene?

For winter is separation and the study of patience but a secret joy brought in its good time.


About sweagraff
Just a guy who's curious about the world and sometimes writes about it.

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